


Spider-Gwen Vs. The Victim Virus

by SlutWriter



Category: Spider-Gwen (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bruises, Creampie, Cum Inflation, Cum belly, Degradation, Electrocution, Excessive Semen, F/M, Face-Farting, Fisting, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Huge balls, Huge penetration, Humiliation, Hypnosis (Kinda), Irrumatio, Lolicon, Masochism, Mind Break, Multi, Other, Physical Abuse, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Abuse, Vomit, Watersports, hyper cock, piss drinking, rimjob, teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlutWriter/pseuds/SlutWriter
Summary: Gwen Stacy of Into The Spiderverse fame finds herself feeling increasingly strange and masochistic as an investigation progresses - eventually walking into a trap set by Kingpin, Vulture and M.O.D.A.A.K. and about a hundred horny A.I.M. thugs, tearing the crotch of her costume, and begging them all to have their way with her in the most brutal fashion possible.(Commissioned story.)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 81





	Spider-Gwen Vs. The Victim Virus

**Author's Note:**

> This is not an attempt to add an uplifting or nuanced piece of fiction to the Spider-Gwen universe. Rather, it is an extreme stroke fic written for the purposes of masturbation that includes extreme examples of sadomasochistic behavior. The characterizations, plot and story elements are all tailored exclusively to this end.
> 
> Please read the tags carefully, set your expectations appropriately and stop reading if anything makes you uncomfortable.

Sixteen-year-old Gwen Stacy knew that her body was going to be totally destroyed in the brutal rape that was to come, and she no longer cared. She  _ hoped _ for it, even. And the feelings driving her to this strange and dark conclusion had come upon her so gradually that they had taken hold before she even realized the change. 

Gwen had felt the need stirring inside her for months; as a girl pulled from her own dimension, the nagging feeling that something was somehow out of place had been a constant thrum in the background of her efforts to resume her normal life. Something about the way the other students at Brooklyn Visions Academy talked about her; and the way her superhero alter-ego, Spider-Girl, was portrayed in the media and in online forums that followed her exploits, was different from her home dimension of Earth-65. The collective subconscious of the world at large seemed to have a nasty edge, and as she investigated more and returned to her crime-fighting duties, she overturned more ugliness that seemed to seep into her very being.   
  
Her spider senses tingled more and more and with each passing day as she revealed the strange darkness not just of her new dimension’s criminals, but her peers. It was disturbingly common for her to overhear off-color conversations about her in the halls and behind whispered hands in her classes. Even her conversations with Miles Morales - more distractions that anything - had been unable to quell the rush of other remarks that had perked her ears. The other girls thought she was ‘stuck up’, ‘a bitch’, and openly talked about how her frequent unexplained absences from school (on superhero business) were the result of some lewd sexual arrangement.

_ She fucks all sorts of college guys. Janet is in her biology class, and she says… _

_ Of course she doesn’t get in trouble for her attendance. I was walking past Mister Phillips’ office and I saw a shadow of her head bobbing in his lap - she’s totally blowing him! _

_ She looks like just the type, doesn’t she? What a whore! _

This had happened on Earth-65 too, to an extent - Gwen had often said that she didn’t ‘do friends’ and was just fine without the approval of others - but somehow the base nature of the accusations affected her in a way they hadn’t before. A lack of faith in the good-nature of people germinated inside her; the nagging feeling that she was wasting time trying to save people who were vicious and nasty. They talked at such unnatural length about how she was a cock-sucking slut so often, spreading those sick rumors, that a part of her had started to wonder if it wasn’t true.

She should have known, even at the first inkling of change, that something was unnatural about how it was making her feel. By the time she realized something was wrong, it was too late.

In terms of gossip, the guys were even worse than the girls. Students at her school talked about how she had an  _ amazing ass _ and how much they’d like to grab two handfuls of her gymast-level rump and just squeeze those juicy ass-mounds as much as they liked. One day, after a hamfisted pickup attempt and Gwen rolling her eyes and moving along, she overheard the spurned party ask ‘What’s that big-butt bitch’s fucking problem, anyway?”   
  
“She’s not sitting on my face,  _ that’s _ her problem!” piped up his neckbearded friend, and they all shared a laugh as she turned the corner. Gwen had blushed deeply and felt her cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and anger… and also something else, something totally unfamiliar. A voice, tiny at the time, that said:  _ They’re right _ . A voice so small she couldn’t even admit it had entered her mind. Always self-confident and assured, she wrote it off as an aberration.

Gwen had never had any problem getting constant attention for her beauty and physique. Jumping from building to building in a white, web-patterned catsuit meant that pictures of her contorted, athletically-gifted form were plentiful online and in the news media. To add to the package, she had piercing blue eyes, sandy blonde hair which she dyed blonde when she felt like it, and had recently adopted a sleek side-shave after a hair-related mishap at school with Miles’ burgeoning powers. Though still growing, her legs had already reached something like full perfection - they unfolded long and graceful from her svelte hips, providing the power needed for agile jumps… and the associated thighs and ass that gave her admirers plenty of heart palpitations.   
  
Her favored stance (and one often used by any to carry the responsibility that came with being bitten by a radioactive spider and moving on to fight crime) was a squatting, spread-kneed crouch that allowed her to build up power for her next leap; and it was impossible not to notice her amazing butt and sexy thighs when she was in such a position. The suit - so skin-tight that the fact she wore no underwear was common knowledge, for no panty-lines could be detected - was like an instrument custom-designed to show off her ass. Anyone with a suitable lack of shame could look right between her legs and see every graceful muscle, every sexy delta, every bubbly curve. 

In trying to return to her normal routine she made online investigations into the exploits of Earth-TRN700 and found familiar faces like Vulture, M.O.D.A.A.K., Kingpin and others were up to their old tricks - but there was an undercurrent running through their crimes, and the discourse around them, that was subtly different. As she worked thwarting crimes, bully henchmen for information, and investigating the strange research plans of Olivia Octavius (a new version of Doc Ock to her), Gwen had found herself looking more and more at the online forums dedicated to the exploits of her and others; seeing what people thought of her. Many of the comments all had a common thread - an inarticulate, depraved need to do unspeakable things to her gorgeous teenage body.

Sometimes, late at night, she would scroll through response after response to a particularly steamy candid image that had caught her bubbly ass jiggling mid-jump, or her crotch open in a crouching pose, the folds of her labia and the pearl of her clit detectable through the fabric. 

_ Those legs! Only sixteen and built like a brick shithouse _ , was one comment.  _ I’d eat a mile of her shit just to see where it came from _ , was another. And there were others, even more artless and immediate in their grotesque need:   
  
_ god I want to rape this fucking bitch _

They talked among themselves about how much cock she could suck and how she was probably a demon in the sack. They speculated about whether she sucked and fucked the other superheroes who were known to exist (always answering in the affirmative, of course) and talked up their wishes to become supervillains just so they could capture her and have their way.

At first she had been disgusted by these postings, and dismissive. But over time, Gwen found herself returning to them more and more, sometimes for hours each night, delving deep into the identities and habits of the people posting them, and finding reference to a strange codeword - the Victim Virus.    
  
The Victim Virus. An ominous name… and possibly part of a grand scheme tying Olivia Octavius, Kingpin, Vulture, M.O.D.A.A.K. and the A.I.M. terrorist cell together. Her search, both in real life and by computer, became obsessive. All she had was a name. Then, several weeks before her current unwinnable predicament, she’d followed one of Kingpin’s henchmen to an apartment, knowing he was up to no good… and overheard him and a woman having violent sex.   
  
At first, perched on a tight awking outside an apartment window, she was sure it was rape she was overhearing. The man said so - uttering a guttural ‘ _ I’m going to rape you, bitch! _ ’ before the clatter of furniture and bumping of a struggle followed. Gwen tensed her heels against the stone overhand, ready to jump in the window and give the thug a beating as she had so many times before, rescue the woman, and maybe get some crucial information about the location of the secret lair being used by the alliance of villains. But uncharacteristically, her body hesitated. What she was overhearing was so like the animalistic remarks she had heard about her, she felt a queer trembling in her belly.

_ That’s what people want to do to me. _

The tingling extended down between her legs, and while she’d skipped plenty of biology classes at Brooklyn Visions Academy, she was wordly enough to know exactly what was going on with her body - something that had never happened to her while on the job before.

“Fucking whore, I’m going to rape you and throw you in the trash!” The seething threats being uttered in the apartment should have warranted an intervention, but instead, Gwen put a hand down between her legs to assess what was happening… and found the moist and quivering sensation of her most delicate parts sliding against each other in well-lubricated titillation. She was getting turned on by the proceedings, and the more she listened, the more she realized the woman in question was actually enjoying what was happening to her - the violent fucking, the stark impacts of hand slaps on her face and elsewhere, the entire fantasy of being brutally taken.

And, she realized,  _ she _ was enjoying it too. 

That was the first time that Gwen Stacy had the thought:  _ I want a guy to brutally rape me until I break. _

But it would not be the last.

In the end, she got the information she was hoping for - in the aftermath of their sex - and Gwen’s shameful masturbation on the balcony, listening in - there had been some discussion, and a phone call, and some mention of the Victim Virus. The woman, breathing hard and moaning, had uttered words Gwen had found inexplicably exciting.  _ Fuck, you face-fucked me so hard you almost broke my nose. But it’s okay… I wanted you to do it. I swear, ever since I became an agent- _

The man cut her off and she said no more, but Gwen got the gist… and several more delicious clues obtained through voyeurism. The location supply transfers that made it obvious where the secret lair must be, for example… and logistical information about guards, including their distribution, weaponry, and shifts.

That had been two weeks ago. 

It was when she decided against informing Miles and the others about her discoveries that Gwen knew, really knew, that something had changed in her mind. As she walked through the halls of her charter school, it was as if she was floating on air. She was distracted, dreamy… except when the crude remarks and leering eyes would come. Then, they had her strict attention… and she took to lurking around corners, listening in on fellow students, hoping they would say more and more. She made online aliases to participate in comment threads about her own rape, suggesting scenarios of increasing brutality and letting the horny imageboard dwellers go wild while she fingered herself to the inhumane things they wanted to do to her. It got worse, day by day.

Eventually, a new account, one she didn’t recognize, made a peculiar suggestion.  _ Did you hear about that schoolgirl kidnapping case? Spider-bitch should drop into the base of all those criminals, with no backup, and just let them do whatever they want. There will probably be hundreds of them there. Imagine how long and hard they could rape her. Maybe they’d give the kid back in exchange for her worthless cumdump ass. _

Of course Gwen knew the case - it had been all over the news. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed young girl had been taken by thugs, in broad daylight, from outside her upscale private middle school. The police seemed totally ill-equipped to deal with the brazen act (something Gwen, whose father was a police officer, knew firsthand) which seemed to leave it to her and her pals to handle the case. Miles and Peter were already talking about it, and Gwen expected they would make a strong push to investigate and solve the crime soon.

She could not admit to herself that was what she wanted, more than anything. Even crawling through the air ducts, sneaking past the guards, even when her padded feet hit the floor in the midst of the throng of enemies, she told herself it was an investigative mission; that she would gather intel and report back to her Spider Friends, and launch an assault together.

But that was not what happened. Surrounded by over four dozen A.I.M agents and their masterminds, the combined supervillain trio of Kingpin, Vulture, and M.O.D.A.A.K., Gwen felt her last sliver of resistance give way to the insatiable need. She had walked into their trap - had set out that night intending to walk into it, knowing the insurmountable numbers that awaited her in the secret lair of the three nefarious criminals - and now there was only one thing to do.

_ Submit. _

She knelt in the midst of them, then bowed forward and put her cheek on the floor, arching her back, thrusting her ass up. She reached behind herself, tore her costume in the rear, letting her amazing ass bounce free and jiggle for the assembled thugs and masterminds.

“Please,” she moaned. “I… don’t want to fight anymore. Please, just fucking rape me… and let the girl go.” The last part was almost an afterthought.

Kingpin’s swollen jaw rose up on one side in a smirk. He was looming like a living mountain in his trademark black and white suit. “Well, look at that. Dr. Olivia’s crazy mental programmin’ plan worked after all. And now she’s gonna help me get my family back, and I don’t even have to use the collider!”

“Ah yes, the Victim Virus! Based on work *I* did for Oscorp, of course,” Vulture piped up. “Much of the credit should be mine for the taming of this bitch.” He was a much smaller man than Kingpin, but with an outsized ego, beady red eyes, and purplish grooved skin that matched his carrion-feeding name and the darkness in his heart. He looked upon her prone form with crossed arms and a lecherous expression.

But Vulture was neither the horniest nor the most egomaniacal presence in the room. “I knew about the virus before anyone,” M.O.D.A.A.K. sniffed, pursing the lips of his giant, oversized face like a duck, while rocking his enormous, potato-shaped body in a makeshift throne. As ever, despite being only part of the plan, the ‘Mental Organism Designed As America's King’, really just an enormous head supported by tiny arms and legs, considered himself wholly in charge. “I have the best viruses. My agents were the ones putting out the information. They did it super-fast. They were rushin’. I have a lot of rushin’ agents working on my behalf.” His bloated, ovoid head-form rolled and rocked as he rubbed his fingers together, no doubt imagining the foul things he could do to Gwen in the coming moments.   
  
The kidnapping victim was also present, held fast against Kingpin’s leg and absolutely dwarfed by him, her eyes as wide as saucers. She seemed unharmed - physically at least. But the look on her face, the way it had gone from a child’s enthusiasm and wonderment to abject horror in the span of moments, spoke of some possible psychological scarring. The kidnapped girl was, quite obviously, a bona-fide Spider-Gwen fan. The sort who had breathlessly followed her news clippings, who was thrilled to have nearly the same hair and eye color, and who might have pantomimed some web-swinging and crime-fighting in her bedroom, away from her parents prying eyes. Now, she had a front row seat to see Gwen was exposing herself and begging to be raped!

“No!” she moaned. “I don’t understand! Why won’t she fight?” the girl wailed.

“Because she’s a stupid cum dump,” Vulture cackled, starting forward, forcing the seas of A.I.M. thugs to part around Gwen. “Don’t worry my young piece of carrion - if the virus is working as advertised, she’ll greet what we do to her quite warmly!” He moved to within a stride of Gwen and reached down to the crotch of his black body stocking, which doubled as a feathered wingsuit. His snaggle-teeth poked out of his smile at all angles. 

He circled around near Gwen’s face and unzipped, producing what he was packing - an obscenely long, aesthetically-wanton penis rooted in wiry black pubes as tangled as any bird’s nest. When Vulture’s flopping, liver-spotted hose of purple cock unfurled from his tights and hung degradingly in her young face, Gwen rose to her knees and her expression turned into one of sickening joy. She was a beautiful sixteen-year-old blonde girl and, thanks to the gradual and subtle reprogramming of her thought processes, she wanted nothing more than to be on her knees in front of an abusive old degenerate who would treat her like shit. She guessed that the villain once known as Adrian Toomes, a founding member of the Sinister Six driven to perpetual acts of criminal insanity at the idea he was an underappreciated genius, was probably more than three times her age. His wingsuit tried to create the illusion of muscle but wasn’t enough to hide his spindly limbs, paunched belly, and crooked old man stoop.

“Ah, good! She realizes the benefit of experience and an analytical mind!” Vulture crowed, as he reached down to jack his dangling, nasty meat just inches from Gwen’s perfectly-formed nose. “So many young people don’t understand how the world works - that the youth should serve their elders.” Kingpin and M.O.D.A.A.K. grunted their agreement, with the latter mumbling something about how he had all the best ideas, and if young girls didn’t like it, he would just grab them by the pussy.

“Your cock fucking  _ stinks _ ,” Gwen moaned, looking up at Vulture. “It smells like  _ shit _ . I love it! I want it all over my face!” She reached up to grasp the flopping, dangling knee-slapper with both hands. It was spongy and the opposite of virile, and that made it all the more degrading for her to handle, jerking this old, nasty fucker’s limp tool to hardness was now the extent of her usefulness; and the further she fell into disgrace the more comfortable it became. 

Gwen lifted the shaft up and took a look at Vulture’s low-hanging, liver-spotted purple balls that dangled in a that stretched like taffy all the way to his knees. The irregular mat of pubic hair was thick around his base and much thinner down on his nuts; in the space where his skin was visible she could see all sorts of lavender-tinted veins, moles, and discolorations amidst the slapdash, feather-plucked hair tufts.

_ I should be having sex with hot high school guys but instead I’m going to suck this deformed, twisted rapist’s huge, disgusting cock _ , Gwen thought, and the idea made her bare pussy tingle enough to moisten her inner thighs.  _ It’s all fucked-up and nasty and it must be over a foot long! _

“Get to work, you immature bitch!” Vulture grumbled, still with his typical air of superiority. “Show me how you clean a brilliant scientist’s smelly, unwashed cock!”

Gwen took a tighter grip and rolled Vulture’s foreskin back with a  _ slllch _ sound, revealing a trove of moist cock filth beneath. Her dainty nose quivered and she inhaled deeply, biting her lip with utter lust as her eyes were transfixed by this new discovery. She heard a gagging, retching noise from the kidnapped girl, who was being forced to watch every detail of her performance, and didn’t care even a bit. Considering the less-than-zero value she placed on her own life and reputation at that moment, the opinion of one fan meant little or nothing. She opened her mouth and slurped up the first couple inches of Vulture’s flaccid snake, which was close to normal width but amazingly long, hollowing out her cheeks as she slurped around the head and shaft with her tongue, vacuuming up his cock filth and making moaning, consumptive noises as she serviced his unwashed prick.

At lest half of the A.I.M. operatives had recording devices focused on her, and beyond that it was likely that Kingpin and the others were recording every bit of this for their own future purposes. Regardless of the source, Gwen knew that every person on Earth-TRN700 would probably be able to access the footage of her sucking dick like a whore. All those speculations about her habits - that she was a cock-sucking piece of shit, that her amazing ass was only good for being ripped apart by cock - would turn into prophecies. 

Her pussy dripped onto the floor as she bobbed her mouth up and down on the bruise-colored alien landscape of Vulture’s long, rancid cock. When she removed it from her mouth and flicked her tongue around the spongy tip, she had flecks of smegma on the corner of her mouth and several wiry black pubes plastered to her lips. Her eyes were wide, blue, and worshipful. Vulture threw back his head and laughed with triumph, then plunged his hand into Gwen’s short blonde hair. “Ah! This is how it should be - men of experience and wisdom, men who know how the world works, using stupid infantile teenage girls as their toilets!” He pulled Gwen’s head up and cockslapped her face repeatedly with his long meat while she extended her tongue.

“Nnngh, yes!” Gwen moaned. “I’m a piece of fucking shit! Please, beat me with your cock!” She was begging for it as if Vulture’s cock held the antidote for a recently-ingested dose of lethal poison. There was no hint of hesitation in her beaming blue eyes, only the desire for her own degradation.

“Now, you must take the whole thing like a good stupid girl, and not spill a drop!” Vulture warned, and he took a tight grip on Gwen’s face and took aim with his semi-hard tool. The stance he took - bow-legged, hunched over, feet splayed, his strange, purplish and liver-spotted balls dangling down to the youthful curve of her modest teen bust - made it all the more lewd when he grunted and thrust forward, gripping Gwen’s head without any gentleness. “Unnnuuuagh! For so long you’ve been the talk of the town, while a brilliant scientific mind like mine is overlooked! Well, now, everyone will see what a worthless, cock-sucking whore you are, Spider-Girl!” he wheezed. “Now, the whole world will know it!”

Gwen’s throat bulged and he drilled into her until her cute nose was nestled in his smelly pubes. Her eyes went back and clear rivulets of cum and throat slime slid out of her nose. The only sound she could make was a wet ‘glurk!’ and Vulture began to flex his jerky-dry, emaciated, old-man physique with delight as he sawed his nasty eggplant-tinted prick into her gullet. Gwen’s expressive, shining blue irises jittered as her mouth contorted into a sucktube and Vulture began to fuck her throat with long strokes - all the way in, until her nose was sniffing his dusty crotch - and then all the way out until his discolored cockhead was tickling her tongue.

“Glllrk!” Gwen croaked. Her eyes were unblinking, bubbled of spit drooled out of her mouth and splashed, connecting to her chin in sticky ropes and accordioning back and forth as she was violated. “Bllluuuuurgh! Nnnnnnnggllllhgh!” Vulture showed absolutely no mercy as he pounded his long prick into her throat and banged his smelly, mottled balls off the swell of her pert breasts.

“Spread your cheeks!” he ordered, still thrusting. “Pull yourself apart and show everyone your big, fat ass!” Of course, Gwen’s ass was anything but fat - it was as shapely and sculpted as could be - but it was certainly  _ large _ . She groaned, gurgled, and reached below herself to make the tear in her costume even wider and show every one of the leering A.I.M. criminals the perfection of her young pussy and pale, pink asshole. She clutched her big buttocks fiercely enough to leave pink fingermarks on the flawlessly-complexioned flesh and pulled herself wide to every degenerate in the room could see her phat pussy mound, the hamburger-bun thickness of her puffy labia, and her pierced clit. She spread herself wide enough that the circle of her anal rim contorted into a disc.

And of course the catcalls came quickly, as they had on the forums and websites, as they had come in the whispered conversations at her charter school:

“Fuckin’ ass meat!” 

“She’s only sixteen? What a  _ monster ass _ !”

“I’m going to assfuck this bitch until she’s in a coma!”

“That asshole was made for takin’ cock!”

“Stupid cunt needs to sit on my dick right now!”

The depraved comments only made her wetter, only made her pull her bulging, round butt-cheeks apart for the men more widely and with less shame. Vulture was picking up speed in her throat, close to the early pop-off that was probably the only kind his disfigured body could muster, and he hilted himself as Gwen groaned. 

_ Spllllrk. _

_ Sploooooooooort. _

_ Spluuuuuuuurt. _

Fat, hose-like blasts of nasty old-bastard cock cream pumped down her throat and started to fill up her stomach. Her shot five, six, seven times, filling her with that uneven load as if he’d been waiting for a nubile young teen to empty his aged, wrinkled purple balls for weeks or months. Some of the sperm, yellowish and discolored, leaked from the corner of Gwen’s mouth as her throat swelled and retracted, swelled and retracted, with each burst of chunky nut sauce. 

Vulture cackled praise for Gwen as she brainlessly consumed his rancid genetic material, removing his cock to milk the last couple of weak spurts into her face. Her mouth was totally filled, the huge nasty load bubbling and dancing just below the line of her adorable, slightly-gapped front teeth, looking jaundiced, yellow and stinky by comparison, with the thicker chunks and ropes visible in the mess. “Gargle it!” Vulture ordered. “As a foolish young girl  _ should _ do for a person of brilliance!”

Gwen looked up at him tearfully, kept her mouth open, and gargled the entire cumload, making it bubble and froth around her lips. She had pubic hairs stuck to both sides of her mouth as she did so, their greyish-black squiggly lengths standing out against her fine youthful white skin. “That’s it!” Vulture taunted. “Now swallow! Get a stomach-full of nutrients from a superior genius!” Gwen closed her mouth, closed her eyes, and took the biggest, loudest gulp ever as the dozens and dozens of violent criminals looked on. Kingpin himself, his enormous, boulder-shaped body looming like a cairn stone, uttered a satisfied grunt as he saw Gwen’s utter submission to the third-rate villain.

“Not bad, bird,” he assessed. “That masochistic suggestion stuff that Doc Olivia put out is as strong as she said. Because otherwise she’d have nothin’ to do with the likes of you.”

“Pah!” Vulture grunted. “Octavius, Octavius! That cursed name - give me some credit for once!” he groused, and his anger at being once again overlooked seemed to come to a head as Gwen gasped, choked, and finally managed to swallow his entire filthy cumload down into her gurgling stomach… for about three seconds. The nasty nut slop was so disgusting that she quickly disgorged it into a pile in front of her, after which she held a hand across her tight, athletic midriff and moaned with disgust.    
  
“Ugh! It’s… so thick and nasty!” she gasped. “It’s like swallowing liquid garbage!” this upset Vulture to no end.   
  
“Stupid whore!” Vulture squawked and wound up and punched her square in the jaw, sending her toppling over to one side. “I told you not to spill a drop! Now you have to start over again-”

“Not so fast,” M.O.D.A.A.K. chimed in, his disproportionately large, Cheeto-dust-colored head dominating his tiny limbs as he reclined on the low-set throne that was connected to the many strange computer systems of the villainous lair. Of the three villains, the A.I.M. operatives seemed to be under his particular control; and he waved a stubby hand at the dozens of assembled men as he spoke. “I have the best agents here, and I have the most stamina, too. The best agents ever. Before I joined A.I.M. they had the worst agents. Now they’re the best, because of me. I made sure we recruited the best - I called all the jails, I made sure they were sending us rapists and murderers. And some, I presume, are good people.” He pointed a stubby finger. “They’ll show you how to really handle Spider-Gwen!”

The assembled villainous henchmen began removing their marks and uniforms, revealing plenty of prison ink and skin colors ranging from cross-on-the-lawn white to dropped-two-in-a-driveby ebony, with plenty of life-without-parole sicario to fill the gap between. Vulture made an indignant bird-like sound as he was shunted aside and Gwen, a bruising rising on her jaw, found herself surrounded by dozens and dozens of violent, muscled cons.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” she moaned from the floor, wrapping her arms around her belly, which was absolutely throbbing with the anticipation of what was about to happen. The A.I.M thugs had brass knuckles, chains, tire irons, lead pipes and even cattle prods at their disposal, and while her agility and equipment would have allowed her to take half a dozen in any given dark alley, she was completely surrounded and vulnerable in the cavernous, computerized lair. “Beat me,” she begged, looking up at them with moist, inviting blue eyes. “I want to get my skull caved in by a bunch of fucking rapists! Beat me until I’m a fucking brain damaged  _ retard _ !”

Again there was a cry of dismay as the young middle-school girl saw Gwen acting in a way that seemed utterly opposed to what she expected. Her jaunty blonde pigtails seemed to wilt along with her posture as she shrank away from the spectacle and, unconsciously, closer to Kingpin’s enormous, elephantine leg. “N-no!” she cried out. “That’s not the Spider-Girl I know!” Then, when the first swinging fist crashed into Gwen’s face, all she could do was wince, cover her eyes, and look away.

The muscled, sadistic men put her flat on her face to start, spread eagling her and tearing her costume to shreds, leaving only tattered remnants. The round, bubbly swell of her ass was the first area of interest for them, and those men who were so inclined bit the warm, throbbing flesh hard enough to leave deep, horseshoe-shaped teeth impressions, literally feasting on her pert sixteen-year-old ass meat to satisfy their jail-stoked libidos. A third man straddled her waist, outweighing Gwen by close to one-hundred pounds, and struck the back of her skull repeatedly, his fist slamming down with a sound like a meat tenderizer on a side of beef, scrambling her brains with each brutal donkey punch.

“This bitch is creaming herself!” said one of the biters, his gold tooth glistening as he took a break from leaking abrasions on Gwen’s supple rump to spread her open and look at the way her asshole and pussy were spasming. “She’s cumming all over the place!” It was true. Gwen’s youthful body was on fire from the abuse; it was so intense, brutal, and unyielding that it made those small moments of sexual tension between her and Miles Morales seem like less than nothing. Two men approached with lengths of pipe and brought then high above their heads before bringing them down on Gwen’s ass - WHUMP! They caused her to jiggle, drew a moan from her lips again, and immediately left horizontal bars of purpled, bruising flesh in the shape of their impacts.

Every ex-con in the A.I.M. squad took at least a half-dozen heavy strokes with the pipes, beating her sexy ass and leaving it black, blue, and welted. M.O.D.A.A.K. made a show of directing traffic, but mostly his assemblage of criminals acted of their own dark instincts - every one of them was fresh out of jail and eager to perform acts of violence on the superheroine who had put many of them behind bars in the first place with her interference.

“Get her up!” M.O.D.A.A.K. ordered. His micropenis was so small that she couldn’t reach it with his stubby arms, but luckily he had a stimulator built into his custom-made outfit that would simulate the act of masturbation - a function he was using as he watched Gwen’s defilement along with the kidnappee, Vulture, Kingpin, and the rest of the hooting criminal throng. “I have the best cattle prods! I had cattle prods before anyone else!” Gwen was hauled to her feet and two silver, baton-shaped stun guns were pressed against her gorgeous, dancer-graceful midsection, which was so far free from the bruises that were now covering her backside. Her eyes were slightly crossed and sperm was leaking from both sides of her mouth. Her lip had been split down the middle.

“You got a nice body, bitch,” said her criminal captor, rubbing the chrome end of the stun gun into the smoothness of her belly, then poking inward slightly, causing Gwen to wince and moan.

“It’s garbage,” she moaned, her voice a broken purr. “My body is garbage. I just want to be raped. Rape me, beat me, and make me eat your cum, please-”

“Fucking toilet whore,” her assailant growled, and buried the shock-stick into her abdomen as he triggered it, making her body seize with voltage as a sizzling, zapping sound filled the air. Every muscle in her gorgeous frame stood out and, after a brutal six second jolt - the men had to use Gwen’s own spider-strands to hold her up, lest they get electrocuted themselves - she slumped like a ragdoll hung up by silk, her neck lolling, her blonde hair hanging down and obscuring her face. There was a patter of liquid as urine began to spray from her spasming, dilating pisshole - the tiny orifice straining with the volume of hot waste exploding from it. The electrocution had caused Gwen to lose control of her bodily functions.

“Look! She’s pissing!” M.O.D.A.A.K. crowed, rocking his ovoid body in his throne. “Goofy Gwen Stacy who thought she was so great, pissing all over the floor! Her body is giving out. She doesn’t have the stamina. I have the most stamina, and I would never do anything so embarrassing involving piss!” M.O.D.A.A.K. turned up the setting on his self-stimulation suit, which began to vibrate his quarter-inch micropenis even faster. “Make sure she’s no good to anyone, boys. You know what to do.”

A second cattle-prod was produced, and now there were two menacing thugs, one white and one black, standing in front of Gwen while the others surrounded her in a tight circle. They poked the prods into her midsection. “That’s where your little teeny-slut womb is, isn’t it? You want to have kids when you grow up, slut?”

“N-no,” Gwen croaked, barely able to raise her head. “Her voice was papery, weak, yet somehow still wanton. “No, I’m a piece of shit. I want to be ruined. I want to be infertile because so many guys raped me-”

“Let’s fry up some of those whore eggs, cunt!” the criminal seethed, and they jammed the cattle prods into her abdominal area, pressing the tips hard into her flesh until they felt the resistance of her internal organs and could press no more, before activating them and sending another soul-destroying shock to tear through her. Her muscles spasmed and the scent of burning flesh could actually be faintly heard as the skin at the point of contact was singed. They shocked her for a good fifteen seconds this time, and when it was over, she had two starbursts on her abdomen that looked like powder burns, and smoke was rising from her skin.

“Never going to have no kids now, bitch,” said the white criminal, spitefully. “Your womb isn’t even useful as a toilet anymore. That cocktease body of yours I had to dream about on my bunk, in jail, is just a used-up cum rag!” He threw back his head and laughed, and the others joined him.

“Ah, I must admit, this made a fine show, M.O.D.A.A.K.,” Vulture said, his voice begrudging. “To take her most vital, life-giving processes - in perfect bloom, thanks to her tender age - and reduce her fertile eggs to electrified sludge in her very oviducts… I could have done better myself.”

“I have the best plans,” M.O.D.A.A.K. reiterated.

“No doubt, any babies she might produce from now on would be born cataclysmically retarded,” Vulture went on, his purple cock hardening at the depravity. He walked amidst the A.I.M. goons, jerking his long, filthy prick, and lifted Gwen’s head, bidding the men lower her. “Ah, seeing her brought this low has given me renewed vigor!” Gwen was so fucked up by her electrocution that she could barely open her eyes, and when she moaned and let out a long, aching breath, smoke actually escaped her lips. Vulture fisted his prick in her face and clenched his teeth, any pretensions to sophistication dropping away for the moment as he pried her unfocused eye open and pressed his pisshole directly against her eyeball. “Mmm, I’ll be happy to burn your eyeballs out of your skull with my load while you drop out a load of stillborn, mongoloid children you piece of shit!” he wheezed. His dickhole sputtered out a dense rope of rancid ball-gravy that seared the gorgeous, blazing indigo from her eye. “Nnngh… I’ve wanted to do this for so long! I dreamed of it!”

The dark-skinned A.I.M. thug pressed his stun gun against her chin. “Suck on this pipe, bitch!” he crowed. “Suck that pain stick that made you barren!” Gwen shuddered and responded, her arms still held out to the sides by strands of her own webbing, held taut by the very criminals who had so often before encountered her tools of the trade, much to their detriment. She began to fellate the cattle prod pathetically, sucking the silver baton like it was a cock, seemingly thanking it for fucking her up with every moaning, slurping bit of oral attention.

“You like getting raped, huh, trick?” the man taunted. Gwen nodded with a whimper, not even bothering to lift her mouth off of the prod. “And bein’ hit?” She nodded again. But before he could continue with his line of questioning, Vulture put a hand out and moved the man away with a gruff gesture. 

“Silence, lackey!” he objected. “A nameless thug like you may only take what remains after the vulture has feasted - on the death of her dignity!” He did not notice Kingpin rolling his eyes and crossing his mammoth arms, so caught up was he in his vituperations. He nodded toward the A.I.M. thugs on both sides. “Bring her low. I want Gwen Stacy, the gorgeous sixteen year-old blonde girl of everyone’s dreams… to lick and suck my asshole!”

Gwen was shoved to her knees, and Vulture tore and fumbled at his wingsuit, which was not designed to be removed easily, eventually creating a hole that revealed the purple crescent of his asscrack. A second tear made it larger, and he took up a bow-legged squat in front of Gwen’s face, revealing a pimply, hairy landscape that was riddled with pockmarks. The sight of him bending over and spreading his cheeks in her face could hardly have been the dignified station to which his delusions normally aspired, but Vulture found it to be a necessary evil this time. “Yes!” he hissed. “Get your face right in my ass! If only Brooklyn could see you now, Spider-Girl! You’re on your knees, your pretty mouth just inches from the  _ hole I use to shit _ ! Now, tell me how you feel about it!”

“I… love it!” Gwen croaked, weakly at first, but he voice picked up speed as her need for abuse kindled inside her. “I always want to lick the ass of guys who rape me. The more brutally a guy rapes me the more it makes me want to  _ eat his shit _ !”

“Ah, fuck... “ Vulture hissed, jerking his cock to Gwen’s filthy words. “That’s what I want to hear! Get your tongue up there! Kiss it! Kiss it like it was that Spider-boyfriend of yours!” Gwen followed instructions, bracing her feet on the ground in her sporty sneaker-like costume boots, arching her back, thrusting out her ass, planting her hands on his butt cheeks to pry them apart. Her own rear, denuded of costume tatters, displayed the bite-marks and bruises that had resulted from her earlier ass-pummeling. The swelling had made her perfectly-formed teen ass curves even more delectable, if that was possible - and her twitching pussy was leaking all over the floor as she drilled her sassy tongue into Vulture’s turd cutter - a ring every bit as purple and puffy as her bruises.

“Oh my g-god!” the captive girl moaned, peeking out through her fingers. Her shoulders were slumped with her disillusionment and whatever impressions of Gwen Stacy she’d once had were melting away into revulsion. Yet her pretty blue eyes couldn’t look away. “She’s... she’s actually kissing his butt! Where he poops from!’ That’s disgusting!”

“That’s right!” Vulture sneered, looking over at the aghast young girl. “I took a big, long, satisfying dump this morning, and now this holier-than-thou heroine is slurping out my shitpipe!” He groaned again as the pleasure of Gwen licking his bowel walls overtook him, and he reached behind himself to shove her face more fiercely against his turd-ring. “Yes, really get your tongue in there! Finally, after all my years of research, some recognition!”

Gwen’s blue eyes were glassy and submissive as she allowed Vulture to completely degrade her, snaking her agile pink tongue as deep as she could into his pucker and rotating it, tasting the moist, earthy walls of his bowels. She made the wounded, satisfied sound of an animal tired of running,  _ glad _ to be shot and entrapped. Her young pussy was absolutely dripping as she was forced to kiss and suckle at Vulture’s anus; the look on her face made it clear she loved every bit of what she was doing.

“Suck my shithole,” Vulture ordered. “Open your mouth and start sucking that ass! I’ll watch this footage afterward with great delight, Spider-Girl! A sexy young vixen serving her intellectual superiors!” His face contorted with satisfaction as Gwen did as she was told. He opened wide and locked her mouth onto his spit-slathered hole, hollowing her cheeks out in a vacuum, with the accompanying suction sounds echoing throughout the room.  _ Slllc-sllllch-slllch-slllch _ ! Her cheeks pulled inward as she took long, slurpy, saliva-splattery sucks, her mouth forming a seal.

“Goddamn,” the A.I.M. frontrunner observed. “This bitch is looking all dead-eyed and shit! Like doin’ this is taking what’s left of her soul!” He was totally correct in his assessment. Gwen’s former cool and indomitable spirit had been utterly defeated by the psychological reprogramming of the victim virus. It was not hypnosis - Gwen didn’t necessarily look dazed or mindless - but rather she had the hundred-yard stare of a broken down career prostitute who had serviced thousands of men. The crowd of assorted toughs and louts began to congratulate each other on breaking such a headstrong young bitch, but M.O.D.A.A.K. spoke up in his wheedling, self-important voice.

“There’s still more to do,” he observed. “She needs cocks in her ass and pussy. All the biggest ones.” A stubby arm waved some of his men into position. “Start raping, hurry up.”

The black A.I.M roughneck, smiling wide, positioned his muscled, tattooed body behind Gwen and flopped his banana-curved ebony fuckmeat over her beaten ass-cheeks. “I’m gonna tear you up, bitch,” he growled, sawing his prong between her dripping cunt flaps before shoving it into her asshole at a brutal angle. It was at least a foot of wrist-thick cock, and he made sure to stab it into the sides of anal passage as he took her, stretching her obscenely. His hands gripped her waist as she moaned into Vulture’s asshole.   
  
“Oh, yes! I’ve always wanted to do this to you, Spider-Girl! As has every male with a functioning penis, at very first sight of you!” Vulture wheezed. “You’ve always been a worthless piece of shit, worthy only to be masturbated on and raped, and all of your do-gooding was nothing but a denial of that truth!” He bit his lower lip. “Nnnngh! Yes! To fart in the face of a sixteen year-old blonde as she sucks my asshole!”

_ Brrrrr-uuuuurrrr-aaaap-p-p-p-p!  _ Vulture gasped with pleasure as he unloaded a soul-snuffing, dignity-erasing fart directly down Gwen’s throat. “Oh… fuck! Yes! Eat my shit, whore! You fucking toilet! You’re only good for swabbing my greasy bowels with that toilet-paper tongue of yours!” he grunted, and he began to blast rope after rope of semen directly into the ground in front of him, so enamored was he of the foul achievement. Gwen’s eyes rolled back in her head and her eyelids fluttered as her body absorbed every bit of the ill wind and was polluted by it, befouled inside by Vulture as thoroughly as her exterior was bruised and battered. She shuddered to orgasm like a sow as the black man tore his bent, body-ruining cock deep into her guts, abrading the walls of her intestinal tract with his battering ram of a prick helmet and reshaping her for all time, forcing himself to the hilt. He aimed his cock down, sideways, and at every angle possible to bludgeon her guts most effectively.

Gwen could feel herself being wrecked, her orgasm was borne on wings of self-hatred and the need for abuse. She could tell her brutal assrapist was tearing her bowels apart with his monsterous, coal-black fuck spear - her gorgeous white, blonde body was nothing more than rape meat for a black gang member. When he grunted and poured a fat load into her asspipe, leaning over her as her face slid away from Vulture’s pucker and down, he quickly vacated and was replaced by another inked up, prison-fresh, hero-hating criminal. The rape of Gwen Stacy was on in earnest, with Kingpin stepping close to get a good view, crossing arms as thick as telephone poles as he glowered down.

“I’m last,” he said, simply. “Otherwise the others won’t even touch the sides.”

Gwen could barely whimper her understanding before her head was gripped on both sides as a tattooed penis with several teardrop murder-for-hire tattooes was forced ten inches down her throat, making her neck bulge. Men tore at her like meat, spread-eagling her in mid-air before settling her into a position to take three cocks - one from underneath, one from behind, and one with her mouth. Nobody showed her any mercy, and each seemed determined to outdo the previous as they trash-talked each other about who could coax the most degrading, soul-ripping cum quake out of Gwen’s poor, shuddering form.

She was skull-fucked until almost unconscious, and when the man following that act got sick of her drooling and vomiting on his prick, he punched her in the face repeatedly and then rammed his cock down her throat until her perfect young nose splintered from slamming into his pubic area. Men tore apart her pussy and ass with one monstrously huge cock after another, goading each other about how they could feel her hungry womb sucking their cocks, pounding into her and enjoying the sound and sight of her amazing ass compressing against their thighs and jiggling with each thrust. Load after load, they dropped and vacated until half a dozen men had had each hole. 

Those who were unable to make her cum to their satisfaction reduced to more brutal measures; since abuse was the only thing Gwen seemed to respond to, one man fucking her ass twisted her arm behind her back and broke it with a snap, leaving it hanging limp. Her cry of pain and pleasure was so loud that the next man repeated it when he cored out her asshole moments later - SNAP! - leaving Gwen with two twisted, rapidly discoloring broken arms that dangled like loose shoelaces. After another half-hour of rape, they beat her legs with pipes until those were useless as well, leaving her a complete ragdoll, face-down on the ground with cum spewing out of all three holes.

Yet that was only the beginning. Gwen’s eyes were blackened, nose broken, and her limbs shredded. All of her holes had totally torn apart my massive cocks, and the men laughed and pointed, video-taping her blasted bowels and spasming pussy as they used their hands to pull apart each orifice. When they tired of fucking her they fisted her pussy and ass, ramming their tattooed knuckles as deep as they could, finger-fucking her womb, punching up into her shitter until her ass was a wrist-gaped wreck.

“Time to hose this bitch down with some piss,” one of the members shouted. “I gotta take a piss, bad… and Spider-’Ho will make the perfect fuckin’ toilet.” Thus, Gwen’s face-down body was pissed on at length by a tight circle of twenty of thirty gang members, absolutely covering her in their foul, acrid waste. Some of them intentionally guzzled huge amounts of the base’s supply of water and beer in order to fill their bladders up extra high and really enjoy hosing Gwen down. They filmed every moment as they blasted her bubbly, bruised-up, bitten ass cheeks with waterfalls of urine, and took turns erupting piss directly into her asshole and her pussy, with other men (who did their best to stand clear) pulling her legs apart to expose her.    
  
They eventually turned her over, forced upon her mouth and swollen eyes, and pissed degradingly all over her face and the perfectly-formed teenage breasts that it had been their pleasure to grope, suck and bite in the earlier moments. Those with cigarettes and cigars put them out on Gwen’s nipples and her bubby ass. Through the whole ordeal, she was alternately unconscious, or conscious and slurring out orgasmic thanks to her captors. Gwen Stacy was filmed from multiple angles, being pissed on by nearly a hundred criminal gang members, and drinking the piss of every one of them as they formed a line and made her chug the waste from their spewing spigots until her cheeks puffed and she achieved a croaking swallow. She drank gallons of piss, and they used funnels to fill up her asshole and pussy with piss repeatedly as well. “Spider Bitch - Pissed On, Raped Whore!” postings began to appear on the seedier imageboards of the internet, and they showed every detail of her defilement.

Of particular interest were several close-ups in which a black-eyed Gwen begged for more. “Yes,” she slurred. “Piss in my face! I want to drink the piss of every fucking rapist here! Guys who rape girls my age… they make me cum so hard! Please, fuck me up and make it hurt! You like my big ass, don’t you? It was made to get ripped apart by cock!” Her voice had a droning, brainless quality that was frightening to anyone with a shred of human decency, but perfect for the many morally bankrupt fappers infesting the boards.

It was hours before the A.I.M. operatives were done. Gwen was face-down, her limbs crooked and splayed, totally nude in a puddle of cum and piss. The kidnapped girl had not been able to watch every detail of her defilement - she had tried to turn away - but she had seen enough to be utterly confused and disgusted by the spectacle. Everything she had believed about the nature of superheroes was, it seemed, a lie. And Gwen had been her favorite. But now, after seeing that exemplar of female empowerment and sass ask to be fucked and pissed on by a hundred men-

“Watch this,” Kingpin said to her, looking down, his mountainous form casting her in shadow. “This is the truth about them so-called heroes.’” He loosened his tie and walked over to where Gwen lay, looming like a monolith, before reaching down to unfasten his trousers. Everyone, including the girl, couldn’t help but be a bit curious. Kingpin was so unnaturally shaped - like a rock facing that had learned to walk - they couldn’t imagine what he looked like naked, or how he’d even managed to copulate with his wife without crushing her to death before his son, the since-departed Richard, could be born.    
  
He doffed his suit, his undershirt, and finally his pants, revealing what everyone had wanted to see.

“Oh my gooood!” squeaked the weeping kidnapee, peeking through her fingers. “It’s bigger than her body! It’s so huge!” 

Everyone hardly needed a middle-schooler’s assessment of Kingpin’s cock to see the obvious truth. Much like the rest of his boulder body, the crime lord’s genitals were oversized, physically imposing, and girthy beyond measure. The shaft hung down with the width of a fire hydrant, riddled with girthy veins that were as thick as some men’s entire penises. The bulging, circumcised bell-end seemed as thick as Gwen’s waist, and the pisshole, larger than her mouth. Hanging below this impending, immense device was a pair of balls that looked like watermelons in a leather sack. His penis wasn’t just large - it was the largest that anyone had ever seen!

When he pulled Gwen up by the waist and held her ragdoll body in front of him, her head slumping down and cum pouring from every orifice, even some of the A.I.M. agents had to look away. But the true degenerates kept filming, broadcasting, and making sure that Gwen’s impending defilement would be seen at every corner of the earth, ruining her reputation in this dimension and probably beyond. Their smartphones zoomed in on her face as the rubbing of Kingpin’s leaking, bulging cocktip against her bottom seemed to jar her back to consciousness, and as she saw what was pressing against her buttocks (she was being held in midair like a tiny child, Kingpin’s physically imposing frame being dozens of times her size), she let out a whorish coo.

“Oh, yes!” she rasped, and then looked out at the sea of cellphone cameras through eyes that would barely open. Her lip was split and cum was slathering every inch of her body. Her limbs were dangling like a marionette with unpulled strings. “Please watch… I want you all to see… I want every person in Brooklyn to watch my pussy get destroyed by this enormous cock.” Kingpin poised her at the tip of his penis as though she were a tiny doll, and clamped his huge hands around her waist, keeping his cock, and her body, roughly horizontal. He pressed in, but the penetration, at first, seemed impossible.

“It’s going to kill her,” Vulture assessed. “This will be most interesting.”

“Mine is bigger,” M.O.D.A.A.K. chimed in. “I have the best penis.”

“Everyone, please watch as this criminal scum uses me as a sleeve for his massive cock,” Gwen begged. “I’ve already been beaten, raped and pissed on by a hundred men, and licked all their assholes and sucked the scum off of their smelly, unwashed cocks. You all saw me as a beautiful, aloof sixteen-year-old high school girl but I’m a stupid, worthless piece of shit who wants to be beaten and raped by every man on earthnnnngh!”

Kingpin pulled her back toward his waist with all of his considerable strength, and there was a crackling, popping sound as parts of Gwen’s body shifted, stretched and dislocated to accommodate him. Her young pussy, already used as a toilet by a legion of terrorists, stretched wider than a mother giving birth as Kingpin’s beiny fuckprong burrowed into her, instantly distending her abdomen into the shape of his ungodly huge chud. Her belly button bulged out in the hemispherical shape of his prick helmet and her skin stretched taut and red, her navel resting roughly where his pisshole was, taking on the shape of that yawning depression. 

Gwen looked down at her belly with a mix of pleasure and astonishment. She could no longer feel much of anything except the most extreme, defiling abuse… and the hole-ruining penetration felt like a dull, crashing wave of mind-melting pain and pleasure. She began to foam at the mouth and drool mindlessly as her swollen eyes struggled to take in the new shape of her guts. Kingpin pulled her back further and the bulging, enormous dick shape filled her even more completely, the curving head appearing in the middle of her ribcage, flattening or displacing bones and organs.

It felt… amazing. Gwen felt her vaginal walls being blown out to a permanent state of loose incontinence. She would never be able to have sex normally again - Kingpin’s rape was ruining her for all time. Her womb had been crushed flat by his rampaging wrecking ball cockhead; she felt her the tender knots of her ovaries get squashed into reproductive paste. She was absolutely useless as a female and her cunt would only be useful to throw trash in or piss in from that moment forward. “Uwauuuuagghgh…” she groaned, as Kingpin dragged her up and down his cockhead in slow, deliberate strokes that seemed to hollow out her insides. “Uwaaaaugh…”

The sounds coming inside her were like a churn full of loose meat. She heard the squelching sounds of Kingpin’s cum and her own juices, bubbling inside her, and the carnifex sound of her own guts stretching and her bones popping and flexing. “Yeeeesshh..” she groaned, accepting it all. Being utterly destroyed was now all she wanted or cared about. “My cunt… is getting… fucked up!”

Kingpin’s grunts of satisfaction as he defiled Gwen only added to the nastiness of the scene - and the final touch was when he walked over to the kidnapped young girl - still with Gwen impaled on his hydrant-thick ramrod - and asked her to what she thought of her ‘hero’ now.    
  
“Isn’t our way better?” Kingpin tempted her. “This Spider-Gwen you put up on a pedestal… now you see what she’s really like.”

Gwen’s tongue hung out of her mouth and she drooled out another degrading cunt-gasm from her ruined body. Kingpin began to pick up speed in his thrusts, and now the kidnapped girl, though she could have turned away, was watching with eyes wide open. Her illusions about Gwen had been dispelled in the most brutal way possible. She had come to doubt everything she believed.

“Take it!” Kingpin grunted, pulling Gwen onto his cock brutally. “Take it all!” His mammoth balls hitched and churned as he hosed what seemed to be multiple gallons of his sperm into the teen girl’s tenderized guts. Gwen’s bulging abdomen drooped down further and expanded; what had been a cock shape turned into a sphere the size of a beach ball… and then expanded further. Her sloshing, degrading cum belly was audibly sloppy and expanded every time Kingpin fired a new, nasty cum rope into her ravaged insides. Her womb had become nothing but a used condom for a massive amount of his sperm, expanded by the pressure of the orgasm to a grotesque size.

Gwen’s face contorted and she had the biggest orgasm yet, just inches from her former “fan”. Her tongue lolled out and spittle flecked and flew. What little piss remained in her body as forced out and splattered the floor. “I… looove...r-raaaaape…” she whimpered, her voice a papery rasp, before she slid off of kingpin’s dick to the floor. She rolled to her back, her enormous cum gut bulging above. Her pussy was stretched-out cum cavern, and seconds after her descent, a fountain of semen began to backwash out of her sperm-loaded pussy.

“What do you think of her now, Caitlyn?” Kingpin asked the kidnappee, naming her for the first time. “Your so-called heroes of justice.”

Caitlyn had her fists clenched, knuckles white. Her big, beautiful blue eyes were wide as she made eye-contact with Gwen, who was looking up at her with weak satisfaction. “She… makes me sick. She’s… disgusting! To think, I thought she was… and she’s… unnnnghuwuagh!” She croaked and vomited, a thick, chunky line of yellowish-orange gruel, pouring down directly into Gwen’s face. The hot spray of vomit buried the features of the older girl in a mess, but Caitlyn kept heaving, expelling everything in her stomach, vomiting all over Gwen’s breasts and swollen belly.

Two A.I.M. agents dragged Gwen’s legs up and held her cum-sloppy pussy open, as if handling the lips of a well-used garbage bag, presenting the cavernous cum-filled hole to Caitlyn. “Here you go, kid. She makes us sick, too. But luckily you got a toilet right here.”

Caitlyn heaved and spewed the thickest eruption of vomit yet directly into Gwen’s stretched-open pussy, and Gwen had her final, bone-shaking orgasm as her spine contorted and her buttocks clenched. Her pussy, she knew, was now a sewer for the vomit of girls who found her so disgusting it made them sick. It was, according to her rewritten mind, all she had ever wanted, and all she wanted from now on.

Caitlyn collapsed back against Kingpin’s leg when it was done, the last flecks of her vomitous eruption clinging to her mouth as she breathed hard. “I… I hate her,” she confessed. “And everyone in this phony world who can’t see she’s… so gross! My parents, classmates… everyone! I… I hate that she fooled me!”

Kingpin smiled and took Caitlyn by the hand. “I can offer you a new family, kid,” he said, tenderly. “From now on - you can call me ‘dad’. And I’m gonna raise you right. We’ll never forget how disgusting she and her Spiderfriends are, will we?”

“No,” Caitlyn said, wiping a tear from her eye.

Vulture, meanwhile, pointed to Gwen, who was twitching on the ground. “Remove her broken limbs and cement her into the wall,” he ordered, and several A.I.M. thugs started moving at his command. “We’ll use her as a rape-station until her body gives out, and stream it online.”

“Ooh, I just had an idea,” M.O.D.A.A.K. piped up. “Let’s remove her limbs and cement her into the wall, and use her as a rape-station until her body gives out. I have the best ideas involving walls.” 

Vulture objected, ever-paranoid about others stealing the credit, and the argument continued as Gwen was collected and dragged away to start her new life.   
  
She had never been happier or more fulfilled.

  
  
  



End file.
